


mortinez au ficlets

by clexa



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clexa/pseuds/clexa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of mortinez ficlets based off tumblr au prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. coffee shop

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: ‘you’re the creepy guy at the coffee shop who always wears black and orders an iced coffee, no sugar or cream. I thought you were an unapproachable loner but one day it was busy and i had to sit next to you and i peeked at your phone and saw you reblogging cute cat gifs. Maybe next time i will order an iced coffee too so we can have something in common before easing into our cat interests’

Jo never wanted to be a coffee person - really, she didn’t. But working as a detective she pulls a lot of late nights and stares at paperwork so long she starts seeing spots, so three weeks in she becomes a coffee person and never looks back.

Besides, there’s this hole-in-the-wall café she discovered a block from the precinct that serves the best mochas in the city, maybe even the country. She’s possibly biased because all the employees know her name and order, but in all her years, Jo has never had a bad mocha from them.

The only problem is that lately she keeps seeing this guy, always clad in dark slacks and a black coat, sitting in the corner and glancing around the shop furtively from time to time. Jo doesn’t like to stereotype, but the man always orders an iced coffee with no cream, no sugar, and really, how many sane people drink black coffee?

Jo wrinkles her nose in distaste and takes a sip of her raspberry mocha, stepping out the door and shaking thoughts of the man from her head.

 

During the holidays, there’s a sudden explosion of interest in Jo’s café and their seasonal flavors. Ruefully, she sets her alarm a half-hour earlier to beat the rush, and manages to slip in when the line’s only ten deep, but by the time Marta hands over her pumpkin mocha the line’s almost out the door and the only free seat she can spot is at the back corner next to the man. Jo grits her teeth and checks her phone. She doesn’t have to be at the precinct for another half hour, so reluctantly she makes her way over to the counter and slides onto the empty barstool. The man only crooks his mouth in a half-grin before he turns back to his coffee - still black iced, even as the city begins to chill.

Jo watches him out of the corner of her eye as she sips her mocha. He’s wearing his signature dark pants and jacket, but this close Jo can see a silk cravat tied around his neck and a waistcoat over his button-down. The man looks up suddenly and catches Jo staring. She focuses intently on her coffee and tries not to blush.

“Henry,” he says, facing her.

“Jo,” she offers, studying him.

His eyes are narrowed but she can see the laughter lines etched in the planes of his face. His hair is curly. Clutched in one hand is a dimly lit smartphone open on an image of a fluffy cat.

Jo smiles privately and excuses herself. Henry watches her go intensely, but maybe, she thinks, intensity might work for him.

As she strolls out the café door, Jo idly wonders if she should get a black iced coffee tomorrow. It’s probably easier to connect to someone over a beverage rather than a cat obsession.


	2. flight attendant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "I'm a flight attendant and you're accidentally hitting the call button every 5 minutes you're lucky you're so cute au"

It’s her last scheduled flight before she gets to go home and _sleep_ , and Jo’s not sure if she’ll actually make it home or end up behind bars because her passengers are driving her crazy.

Being a flight attendant is great the first few flights but after the lack of sleep and the cramped conditions and dealing with people…well. Jo had her fair share of experience and she’d never been able to master the frustration of dealing with a whiny passenger.

The call button signal is flashing _again_  for the umpteenth time and Jo doesn’t have to look to know that it’s for first class. She sighs wearily and slinks down the aisles of blessedly sleeping passengers.

“What’s the problem now, sir?” she asks with a forced smile to 3C.

The man looks up at her, startled, before comprehension dawns on him.

“Oh my, did I press the call button again? I’m terribly sorry-“ he glances at her nametag. “Jo. I’m not very good with technology and all these - things,” he says, gesturing around his seat apologetically.

“It’s no problem,” she tells him. “I want to make sure your experience flying with us is ideal.”

The man smiles up at her, dimpling adorably. Jo reconsiders every scoffing remark she’s ever made about the mile high club, even though the bathrooms _are_ tiny and disgusting.

“It’s been lovely,” he replies. “If I do press that button again, don’t worry about checking on me. I’m all settled in.”

He is - he’s draped a blanket over himself and has his head propped up with a neck pillow. Jo’s eyes catch on the bunch of curls at the nape of his neck.

“Well, if there’s anything I can get you - anything at all,” she says, placing a hand on his upper arm. “You just let me know.”

“Of course,” he answers, but she can tell he’s resolute. And, with the way his eyes flutter, sleepy. Jo smiles at him and returns to her seat.


	3. hogwarts headcanons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “'we started arguing about which hogwarts house this one character would be in and we completely lost track of time and now you’re demanding i take you out to dinner is this a date' au"

It starts in the part-bookstore part-comic shop tucked next to a Subway two blocks from Main. They’re following the footsteps of their latest homicide victim, a post-grad student who frequented the little shop.

There’s nothing there of immediate significance, but Jo’s entranced by the posters plastered to the wall, and Henry is similarly transfixed by the vintage comics. They reunite at a display of Captain America comics in glass cases, under posters for popular franchises - the Marvel movies are all there, segueing into Harry Potter.  Jo nudges Henry’s elbow.

“Good taste,” she teases, tapping at the price. “You didn’t strike me as a comic fan.”

Henry looks up at her sheepishly.

“Abraham was a fan. He, ah, still is, I suppose.”

“You see the movies?” Jo asks, nodding up at the posters. Henry nods.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d be a movie buff either, Henry,” she says.

He shrugs and chuckles wryly.

“I’ve seen my share of films.”

Jo gestures at the line of Harry Potter memorabilia. “My favorite books,” she confesses. “It feels a little silly now that it’s all kids reading them, but they came out when I was almost twenty.”

Henry’s eyes shutter momentarily but he nods approval. “Not silly,” he tells her. “They’re good books.”

“Yeah,” Jo agrees. “What house are you? Wait - don’t tell me,” she says, eyeing him impishly. “Ravenclaw.”

Henry inclines his head in acquiesce. “You,” he says, fixing her with that intense stare. “Gryffindor. The brave lion.” His lips tilt up in a sly grin, and she feels suddenly trapped.

“I’m flattered,” she says. “Everyone wants to be Gryffindor.”

“But you don’t think you are?” he questions, frowning. “Jo, that would be like saying - saying Steve Rogers wasn’t Gryffindor,” he finishes triumphantly. She rolls her eyes, grinning.

“Thanks Bruce Banner,” she quips. Henry’s brows furrow.

“You think Banner’s Ravenclaw?” he asks incredulously.

Jo frowns. “You don’t?”

“Of course not. He’d be Hufflepuff.”

Jo shakes her head vehemently. “Banner’s a genius. He’s totally Ravenclaw.”

Henry scoffs. “But more than anything he’s kind - and moral,” he argues. “That’s the difference between him and Tony.”

“You think Tony’s Ravenclaw? He’s Slytherin,” Jo insists. “Ambitious, determined, powerful, ruthless.”

Henry dismisses her with a wave of his hand.

“Tony’s too subservient to be a Slytherin. He acts aloof but he’s not.”

Jo sighs in frustration, checking the time.

“Henry if you’re going to continue to argue, can you at least give me your _wrong_ opinions over dinner?”

Henry pauses for a beat.

“Detective Martinez,” he begins in amazement, “Are you asking me on a date?”

Jo spares him a disdainful look over her shoulder.

“Obviously not,” she says. “I’d never go on a date with someone who thinks _Tony Stark_ is a Ravenclaw and Bruce Banner’s not.”

Henry huffs and lengthens his strides in pursuit of a laughing Jo.


End file.
